Need a phone call, need a plane ride, need a raincoat
by 1848EllisBell
Summary: "Post wedding Kate surprises Castle while he is on a book tour" Prompt by @tshlw. Filled as a gift to the #ThankYouTerri Team, via a generous contribution from "Anon" to YoungStoryTellers. (Set May 2015. COMPLETE.)


**Thank you to Lou for the beta.**

**And to Dia and Nic for some S-word alliterations ;) **

**Title contains (slightly altered) lyrics from _Raining in Baltimore _by Counting Crows. **

**Set: May 2015, assumes Castle will do a Storm book tour. **

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><p><span><strong>need a phonecall, need a plane ride, need a raincoat<strong>

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><p>She stops as she passes the mirror in the bathroom, pauses in front of it - for too long. Her eyes are darker than they should be, worry-lines around her eyes too visible. Etched on her features are memories she thought she had managed to shake off, but they had only been suppressed. They haunt her now; it's in her eyes, her down-turned lips, her heart, her soul. One year ago, at this moment, not really all that far from here, she brought her phone to her ear, and answered a call that threatened to end her entire world. Soon, in just a few minutes, she was running to a car, her wedding dress hitched up, tendrils of hair coming free from the pins securing it back. Her makeup smudged with tear-tracks, a heart so heavy it dropped like an anvil to the pit of her stomach - and resided there for months after.<p>

The phantom smell of burning tires haunts her, the sickening odor of gas, and she can almost see the twisted blackened metal as though it's before her eyes right now. She never shook any of it off, never suppressed it; it was always there, resting just below the surface, churning and waiting - for the date to come around again. Each second, each minute, each hour was branded on her memory. The days that turned into weeks. The hope she tried to cling to, that just seemed determined to slip from her tenuous grasp. The weeks that became months - without him.

If she can just get through this day, this night, tomorrow she'll be fine.

She swears that tomorrow she'll be fine.

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><p>Evening shrouds the city, and there's no more putting it off. She turns to face the bed, and, with forced steps, makes her way to her side. She slips under the comforter, and turns to him-<p>

-but he's not there. Tonight, the bed is empty beside her. He had kissed her goodbye that morning, had wrapped her in a fierce embrace, and promised he'd be home soon.

But two weeks isn't soon enough.

On this cold, lonely night without him, the darkness of the room, the emptiness beside her, envelops her heart and weighs it down once more. The memory of a year ago, that first night without him, constricts around her - and for a moment she can't breath. It's the first night they've spent apart since he came home to her, and she swore she would be okay, had promised him she'd be fine.

God, she's such a liar.

She's not ok.

It's the anniversary of his disappearance, the day his car was run off the road and he was taken from her.

She's not fine.

The phone rings, the sound startling her in the silent room. Her hands shakes as she reaches for it, but she manages a smile as she reads the display.

"Hey, babe." Her voice is even, belying her fears.

"I miss you."

Her smile grows, but it's tinged with sadness. "I miss you more."

"First night apart since…." He trails off.

He can't say it; she can't hear it.

"How's the hotel?" she asks.

"For an expensive hotel it really has skimped on bed linen."

"Bad?"

"Scratchy sheets," he laments. "Need your body to cuddle up to."

"Next time," she promises. "Next time I will join you on your book tour, murder be damned."

"I'll hold you to that."

There's silence between them, comfortable, just the two of them breathing, listening. "I love you," she says, her voice little more than a whisper.

"Love you more," he murmurs back.

This brief conversation isn't the same as having him beside her right now, but it helps tamper down the anger she still harbors towards those who took him, the frustrations she keeps from him, from a lack of answers, the fear it could happen again. She bids him goodnight, ends the call, and snuggles down into the sinfully soft sheets. She pulls his pillow against her chest, breathes in the remnants of his comforting scent, and sleeps - and in her dreams, while hazy and nonlinear, she solves the case currently keeping her from her husband.

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><p>The answer, of course, is not in her subconscious, it's in the evidence. It's in Lanie's findings, and in the answers suspects reveal. She spends the following day pouring over every minute piece of information, gets lost in reports, recordings, and relayed information.<p>

Her mind wanders; if they solve this, she can get away. If they solve it today she could be on a plane _tonight._ She rubs the tips of two fingers between her eyes, knows the headache she's developed is only made worse by the frown she just can't smooth out. But she pushes through it, blinks her weary eyes, focuses on the reports once more, and looks for that final puzzle piece that will end this day, this case.

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><p>At four PM she almost cries as relief washes through her. Murder solved; it almost doesn't seem real. With a grin lifting up her entire face, she thanks the boys for their hard work. The hope she found upon awaking fills her, and she thinks she might burst with joy.<p>

She books a flight from the back of the cab, during the ride to their home, fighting a losing battle to enter the correct information as the wheels hit pothole after pothole. Success sends a warm rush through her, and for the first time all day she takes a deep breath.

He's safe, in a hotel in Baltimore, and she'll make it there before midnight. But only just.

She rushes into the loft, explaining her plan to a bewildered Martha who watches her from the kitchen. It all comes out in such haste it may as well have been one word: I'mgoingtoBaltimoretobewithRickhedoesn'tknowpleasedon'tsayanythingit'sasurprise.

She throws items into a bag, not even sure of what she's packed exactly, but anything she needs she can purchase there. She hurries past Martha again, who catches her before she reaches the door, and wraps her in a tight embrace.

"Safe travels, Katherine."

It slows her down, and she smiles. "Thank you." She pulls back, and holds on to the calm, taking her time now as she exits the loft. She has plenty of time, she just needed someone to remind her of that.

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><p>She boards the plane with a nervous energy humming through her. Will he be at the hotel when she arrives? Can she pull this surprise off?<p>

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><p>Five hours and one layover later, and she's touching down on the rain-slicked tarmac, on a wet and dreary evening. But she still has time. One hour. To create new memories, and fix this date. And she thinks, as she waits for the slow baggage carousel to carry her luggage to her, that perhaps she should have just driven - but she's too wired for busy highways, so the delay was perhaps for the best.<p>

She presses the pad of her index finger to the window as the taxi takes her through the misty Baltimore streets, and follows droplets of water as they trail down the glass. She traces their path, and the rain just keeps falling, harder as they approach downtown, the waterfront, the hotel. But she refuses to allow the weather to bring her down. He's here, just a mile or so away, an entire year has passed, so much good has happened. This day, of this month, can be changed.

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><p>"Mr Castle please," she says to the front desk clerk, water dripping from her hair. A small puddle collects around her feet, spreading out on the smooth marble floor, but she's unapologetic. She needs her husband. Tonight especially.<p>

"One moment, ma'am." The kid at the desk looks nervous for a moment, and he hesitates, receiver in hand, finger poised to hit a number, as though he knows he's already given out too much information.

"It's okay," she assures him. "I'm a detective."

The kid's eyes widen. "Your name?"

"Nikki Heat," she lies, and it comes out so easy. She flashes the kid her teeth, gives him a kind smile. "He's not in trouble, I promise."

He pauses for a moment, before punching in three numbers, and waiting. "Good evening, Mister Castle," he says into the phone. "Sorry to disturb you but there's a Detective Heat here to see you."

It saddens her, that this kid - nineteen at best - doesn't read Castle's books. She smiles though, as she hears the whoop of joy even from her side of the desk, her husband's muffled happiness warming her wet skin.

"Room 501, Detective," the kid says as he ends the call. "Go right up."

Her strides are long as she heads for the elevator, and, once inside, the small cab rises faster than she expects. The doors open, and she steps out - straight into her husband's chest. His arms wrap around her, he pulls her body as close to his as he can, and he presses grateful kisses to the side of her head. "Detective Heat, huh?" he murmurs against her hair.

She chuckles against his skin. "Couldn't resist."

"I can't believe you made it."

"Had to," she replies. "Need you."

"Need you too," he breathes out. He eases back, frames her damp face with his hands, and slants his lips over hers. He kisses her, right there in the Marriot's corridor, stepping her back until she's pressed against the closed elevator doors, his fingers thoroughly tangling in her wet hair.

"Room," she manages between thankful kisses, her fingers already delving beneath his shirt.

He pulls back, reluctant, and nods. "Good idea. Wouldn't wanna give security a show," he says, a smirk playing on his swollen lips, nodding his head back toward the hallway camera.

She grins. "No."

He takes the handle of her bag in one hand, her hand in his other, and leads her to his room.

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><p>It's midnight when he lays her down on the sheets, softer than he'd described, the mattress billowing around her. She tugs him down, meets his lips halfway, and sighs into his mouth. Now, she is okay; now, she is so much more than<em> fine<em>.

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><p>In the morning she feels lighter, in spite of a lack of sleep from activities that carried on until well after dawn had brightened the now-clear skies over Chesapeake Bay. She kisses him goodbye, again and again, until she loses count of the number of times her lips have touched his.<p>

And the memories of that first morning, one year ago, hold no power over her now.

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><p><strong>Prompt: "<em>Post wedding Kate surprises Caste while he is on a book tour<em>" - Prompt by tshlw. Filled as a gift to the _#ThankYouTerri_ Team, via a generous contribution from "Anon" to YoungStoryTellers dot com slash ThankYouTerri. See all the prompts and fills at ThankYouTerri dot tumblr dot com.**

**Nitpicky people commenting on it (actually clearly the same person who had some bizarre need to comment both logged in and as a guest!): re: flight time from NYC to Baltimore. I wanted a longish travel time, after googling flights for May 2015 (and then using the site expedia) I found flights with a layover, and with the layover averaged around 4 - 5 hours travel time, so she took one of those last minute. Okay? Thanks. **


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